Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Can you tell me what he was like when you two were young?” I asked.
Her eyes smiled more, along with her lips, and she began telling me stories of her first and only love. I saw the color come back to her skin as she laughed and shared many stories about Harry. Maybe that was where the color of life lived for many of us. In the memories of love.
That night, I headed back to Theo’s place. I saw him sitting on the living room couch as I walked up the front porch steps. A spark of hope filled me. Maybe we could finally talk. Perhaps I could officially check in on him. Maybe he’d let me in like Molly had and share some stories about Harry.
Maybe it was his turn to find relief.
Sadly, the moment I opened the front door, Theo only made eye contact with me briefly before he stood to his feet. He turned away from me as if he didn’t see me at all and began to walk away.
“Not even a hello?” I called out, hoping he’d join in.
Instead, I got a grunt from him.
“Theo, come on. You haven’t spoken to me in days. I just want to make sure you’re okay,” I said, standing behind him with his back still facing me.
He kept walking.
I sighed. “Theo, you said we could be friends, and you’d let me teach you how to be a friend. Well, this is part of friendship!” I shouted. “Getting through the hard stuff together.”
He stopped his steps. His shoulders sank.
I moved in a little closer and placed a hand on his back. “Talk to me,” I whispered.
“I can’t talk to you, Willow,” he confessed.
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll make me feel better.” He turned to face me, and his eyes were packed with emotional turmoil. “And I don’t know if I’m ready to feel better.” Without a thought, I took his hands in mine and held them for a split second. “See?” he softly spoke. “That already made me feel better.”
“My touch?”
He nodded with his eyes closed. “Your touch.” He took a deep breath. “He was my father.”
“Yes, he was.”
“And now he’s gone.”
My heart was breaking for him. “Yes, I know.”
“I feel like I have to keep it together for my grandmother. I can’t fall apart because she needs me to be strong.”
“Molly’s not here tonight, though. You are more than allowed to break. We don’t have to talk, and you don’t have to feel better right now. You can fall apart, though. You just no longer have to fall apart alone. You can shatter, Theo. Don’t worry. I’ll collect your pieces.”
“I’m not ready to fall apart just yet,” he told me. “But please keep holding me, all right?”
“I can do that.”
Theo pulled me into his chest. I wrapped my arms around his large frame and held him tightly. He rested his chin on top of my head, but he didn’t cry. I wondered when the last time had been when he allowed himself to truly fall apart.
We stood in the hallway for a long time.
As long as he needed me to stand with him.
Then we went to bed together, and I held him through the night.
Around three in the morning, I felt Theo gently kiss my forehead. His arms were still wrapped around me, and he pulled me closer to him. “Awake?” he murmured against my ear.
“Awake,” I muttered back.
He nuzzled his head into my shoulder, yawning. “Weeping Willow?”
“Yes, Mr. Grump?”
“I was pretty lost before you came along. Thank you for finding me.”
CHAPTER 27
Theo
Death was the only life guarantee that humans had. We weren’t promised riches and fortune, or fame, love, or success, yet we were all promised a final chapter. A novel’s ending would find all of us one day, and that was the only promise made to us when we took our first breath on this planet.
With life came death. Still, that didn’t make it any easier.
The celebration of PaPa’s life took place at my grandparents’ home. It was nothing like a regular funeral. There weren’t sad stories being shared around or sad songs being sung. It was more so a grand celebration of life. Bright, vibrant colors. A tie-dye T-shirt-making station out back by the water. Whiskey shots. A lot of whiskey shots. Irish music and dancing throughout the place. PaPa always said when his time came, he wanted people to celebrate, to sing and shout, and that was exactly what everyone did. Even with heavy hearts, we still gave PaPa the send-off he requested.
His final request was to be cremated and then spread around within all the elements. “That way, you all can see me and feel me within everything,” he told Grandma and me once at our nightly dinners.
Grandma moved around the whole night as if she were on autopilot. She talked to everyone, she smiled, and she danced. She acted as if she were okay even though I knew she was far from all right. How could she have been? She was missing the biggest part of her soul. Nothing would ever fill the space in her heart the way her husband had.